Little Lion Man
by BattleCryBlue
Summary: Blaine is blind. He and Puck don't hit it off in the conventional sense. Puck is determined to protect him anyway. Warnings for AU Puck/Blaine, Blaine!whump, angst, and general triggery
1. Chapter 1

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**Little Lion Man**

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_by BattleCryBlue_

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**Summary: **Blaine is blind. He and Puck don't hit it off in the conventional sense. Puck is determined to protect him anyway. (AU Puck/Blaine. Blaine!whump, angst, trigger warnings)

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own shit.

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The first time Noah Puckerman set eyes on Blaine, his very first thought was that he was going to have to dig his own questionable sexuality back up for this irritating newcomer, because the short brunette was just too damn hot for his own good.

His second thought was that this kid was really, really going to piss him off, because he was wearing a fucking _bow tie_ and worst of all, sunglasses. In the middle of the day, indoors. In the choir room, actually. And the McKinley High choir room, home of Glee-nerds and all those crazy musical theater buffs, was Puck's undisputed turf. Noah Puckerman was always the coolest man in this room. No questions about it. So this sunglasses thing was going to have to get lost, and quick.

Noah had skipped his earlier period, so he'd already been sitting in the empty room for the better part of half-an-hour waiting for Glee club to start. This guy, with the head of crazy dark curls bouncing around like strings on a mop and an outfit made of sweatervest disasters and bright red jeans, had wandered in a few minutes ago with Kurt. Kurt had deposited him in a seat near the front of the room, chattering to him in that obnoxious, high-pitched drone of his about helping him pick out a song to audition with, before prancing out the door again, ensuring his charge that he'd be "back in a jiffy." Who said that anymore?

Kurt must not have noticed Puck sulking in the back row, or he might have been a little more hesitant about leaving his little friend sitting defenseless in the room with him. Not that Puck would hurt the kid, but still. People trusting Puck with defenseless little metrosexuals was like trusting a baby to a shark. Or Santana.

Puck sat tilted back in his chair, chewing his gum with his arms crossed sullenly across his chest, in that way particularly suited for showing off muscles. He tried glaring at the back of that messy mop of curls for a while, thinking that might get the kid's attention, but he had no luck. Then he tried dropping the front legs of his chair—quite loudly—to the ground. That drew a start from the newcomer, but only the barest move of his head in Puck's direction. He wouldn't turn around to look at the hotness seated behind him, and that pissed Puck off.

Sighing, he stood and tromped down the staggered seats to come around in front of the kid, facing him with a scowl. Still, new-kid said nothing, though he fidgeted uncomfortably and seemed determined not to look directly at the other teen. Those stupid fucking glasses didn't really help.

"Dude, what's your deal?" Puck finally snapped at the newcomer, unreasonably irritated by the dark sunglasses he was wearing in the dim lighting of the choir room. Who did he think he was, anyway?

"What?" The new kid froze, and he sounded so genuinely surprised that Puck almost paused to reconsider his actions.

Almost.

"First off, you've been ignoring me. That's not cool. And secondly, you're too good to take off your freakin' glasses and look the rest of us in the eye?" Puck, who was not generally in the habit of thinking before he spoke or acted or did anything really, reached out and snatched the sunglasses of the kid's face.

He wasn't prepared for the glassy, unfocused eyes that he found revealed behind the glasses. Or how damn gorgeous they were.

"Dude... are you...?"

"Blind?" The kid was trying to sound defiant, but there was a tremor in his voice and a false bravado to his actions as he swung at Noah, trying to regain his sunglasses.

The bigger teen easily stepped out of the way of the uncoordinated movements, but frowned closer at the kid, intrigued. "Are you?"

"Yes!" Real exasperation was apparent this time, and the shorter teen clenched his fists hard against his knees, apparently resigned to ever getting his glasses back without Puck's agreement. "It's that or I just run around bumping into things for fun, and I carry this stupid stick and wear those stupid glasses because I _like_ getting the crap kicked out of me."

Puck hadn't noticed the stick before, and he regarded it curiously now where it lay on the floor beside the kid's chair. He nodded towards it, forgetting for a moment that the newcomer might not be able to interpret that. "What's that for?"

Dark brows drew together in irritation. "It's a walking stick. Figure it out."

Puck could only gape. "What's your deal?" He grumbled, "I was just being friendly."

"Stealing my glasses off my face is friendly?"

"Around here, it is."

Puck hadn't noticed new-kid's fingers curling around the handle of his stick until the brunette exploded to his feet, swinging the thing like a weapon.

Puck yelped and threw up his hands, catching the stick on the inside of his forearm and swearing roundly. "The fuck?"

"Give me back my glasses!"

A steely undertone had entered into the other boy's voice, and it was a sound that meant way too much. It hinted at too much history, too much pain and experience. Puck didn't like it at all. But damn, this kid was hot when he was angry. And even if he did look more adorable than terrifying standing there, puffing curls out of his eyes and brandishing that stupid white and red stick like a bo-staff and trying to figure out where Noah was standing, even Puck had to admit that it was pretty badass. And stupid.

"No."

The cane came swinging down again, but knowing it was coming made it easy to avoid.

"Who the hell are you?" The facade of politeness and calm was cracking away, and the face underneath was intriguing to the delinquent.

"Glee club calls me Puck." He shrugged one shoulder, toying with the dark sunglasses in his hands. It really was a shame the kid wore them; he had such fucking gorgeous eyes, even glazed and sightless like that. Puck had only ever met one person who was blind, and his eyes had been white and glazed, making it pretty damn obvious he couldn't see. This kid didn't look like that at all.

"Is that your real name?" The curly-headed kid was reaching out futilely with that stick-thing, still trying to figure out where Noah was standing. Presumably so he could go all Daredevil on his ass again.

"Part of it. What's yours?" Noah bent at the middle, narrowly avoiding the stick as it swiped towards him.

"Blaine."

"Hot."

"Fuck you."

Noah's eyebrows shot up unto his hairline—well, where his hair would be, if he had much. "Well, well. Pretty-boy has a mouth."

"Fuck. You." Blaine repeated, his sightless eyes clouding with anger.

"If you think you could handle me."

With a sound of anger and frustration, Blaine moved towards the sound of Noah's voice, slashing violently. Puck caught the stick with both hands and tackled Blaine, throwing him to the ground and straddling his hips. He knocked the stick away and it clattered into the corner of the room, out of reach. Apparently that didn't stop Blaine from letting out all of his pent-up aggression at his attacker. Deceptively strong for his compact size, the kid starting kicking and punching at Noah, landing a few good hits to his gut before Noah was able to get a grip on his wrists and pin him to the floor.

"Calm down already, will you?" Noah snarled, slamming Blaine's wrists against the floor—not too hard, just enough to make a point. "Christ, you've got a worse temper than I do."

Blaine was breathing so hard that Puck was almost worried he might start hyperventilating, but seemed to make a concentrated effort to pull himself together. "Get off of me." He demanded eventually, quietly, and damn if his voice didn't crack again. It made something inside of Noah hurt.

"Are you going to start swinging at me again?"

"No guarantees."

"Then I guess you're stuck."

Blaine clenched his jaw and bucked up against the larger body on top of him, and _that_ was definitely going to have to stop, because it did altogether unwelcome things to Puck's body, and he wasn't quite ready to examine having feelings like that for a guy.

"I can't believe _I'm_ saying this..." Puck sighed, taking his time studying the hazel eyes trapped beneath his own, "but you might have some anger issues, kid."

"I wouldn't if assholes like you just minded their own business." Blaine was clearly trying to calm himself down, but Noah had the feeling it might just be an act. Blaine reminded him of some kind of trapped animal, both cowering in an attempt to protect himself and constantly seconds away from lashing out at any perceived threat.

"Good point. On the other hand, _I _didn't attack you. For a blind kid, you sure are violent."

Even Blaine had to admit that was true, and he was quiet for a moment. "So if I promise not to _defend myself_ you'll let me up?"

"If you promise not to _attack_me." Noah clarified, daring to loosen his grip a little now that Blaine seemed to have settled down a bit. "If you feel the need to defend yourself, don't let me stop you."

"I won't."

It sounded like a promise, and again Puck had to wonder what had happened to Blaine to make him so angry and defensive. It couldn't be healthy for the kid.

Slowly, cautiously, Puck stood and physically pulled Blaine to his feet, even though the brunette quickly batted away his hand. Shrugging, Noah wandered across the room to retrieve the abandoned stick, wondering if giving it back was a good idea. His arm was still throbbing from where he'd been whacked earlier.

"You okay?" He dared to ask as he gave it back, more worried than he liked to admit by Blaine's hunched shoulders and defeated demeanor as he reclaimed a seat. He tossed the sunglasses into Blaine's lap, wondering if they had been worth the fight. Apparently Blaine thought so.

"Like you care," came the too-quick retort, confirming what Noah suspected. Blaine was hurt, maybe badly. What had passed between them had been damaging to him somehow, but not physically. It was strange. Puck just wanted to reach out to the kid, wanted to apologize for whatever he'd done, whatever can of worms he'd opened, whatever bad memories he'd dredged up... but he never had the chance.

"Blaine?"

_Great._

Kurt had re-entered, bearing a stack of sheet music and musical theater anthologies in his arms, a burden so very Kurt-like that Puck couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"Blaine, did Noah do something to you?" As usual, Kurt jumped to conclusions as quickly as he picked American Idol favorites and with about as much sound judgment. The slender boy rushed to his friend's side, and though Blaine was quick to wave him off, Kurt must have seen something he didn't approve of in the crooked bow-tie and mussed curls.

"Noah!" Kurt rounded on him accusingly, "Did you really come in here just pick on him?"

"I was sitting in here the whole time, genius," Puck snapped, "how about using your eyes next time?"

They were saved from further confrontation by the arrival of Mr. Schue, who was quick to greet Blaine and introduce him, one at a time, to the other club members as they filed in with way too much optimism and excitement given the fact that they were all in high school.

Puck retreated to his seat in the corner in the top row, exchanging sullen glares with Kurt every now and again, but preoccupied mostly by the boy at his side. Sure, they may have just had the most bizarre first meeting ever, but Puck kind of liked Blaine for that. The kid had guts.

Beyond that he was as hot as hell, but something about the way he plastered his good-guy face back on as he met the others didn't sit right with the older teen. It was like Blaine was just being whoever he needed to be to make other people happy, and Puck had only seen a real side of him by accident. The real question was... why did he feel the need to be someone else in the first place? Sure Puck might not be the sunniest character in existence, but people loved _him_ anyway. Possibly because he was awesome, but who knew?

And Blaine kept shaking his head at Kurt, which probably meant that he didn't intend to say anything about his earlier encounter with the mohawked teen. Solid.

"We have a new potential member, Blaine Anderson—" Mr. Schue invited Blaine up to the front of the room with a wave of his hand, reaching out to move Blaine over a little when the teen's approach headed him towards the piano rather than the indicated microphone. "He just transferred in, and he'll be auditioning for us today."

The glee club whooped and applauded encouragingly, and the bashful grin that claimed Blaine's face in the face of such attention was enough to make Puck's pants a little tighter. He was really going to have to do something about that.

"Um. Thanks guys." Blaine seemed genuinely flustered by the warm reception, twisting his hand anxiously around the handle of his re-claimed walking stick. It was an odd change from the vicious spitfire of twenty minutes ago, and Puck found himself captivated by it.

"Do the Katy Perry one!" Kurt was whisper-screaming from the front row, designer jeans-clad legs crossed primly. Puck wanted to punch him in the perfect little face.

Blaine gave a breathy little laugh, adjusting his sunglasses carefully even though there was nothing wrong with them. "Well, I was going to.. I mean, I had a bunch of options planned out for my audition, but... actually I thought I would just do one I've known for a while. It's not really an audition piece, I guess... but it means a lot to me."

"You do whatever you're comfortable with." Schuester smiled encouragingly, patting Blaine on the back as he gave him the floor and took a seat.

Blaine let out a long sigh and fumbled for the guitar sitting by the microphone, abandoning his cane to drape the strap over his shoulders .

_He plays guitar, too?_ Puck found himself think appreciatively, _He just gets hotter by the minute..._

Rachel was murmuring loudly to Finn that he didn't need to be worried because there was no way that Blaine could be a challenge to the big gorilla's leading man status, while Tina and Mercedes were admiring one another's nail polish. No-one seemed to be really paying attention to Blaine.

At least, not until he started playing.

"_Weep for yourself, my man,  
You'll never be what is in your heart  
Weep Little Lion Man,  
You're not as brave as you were at the start..."_

_Rate yourself and rake yourself,  
Take all the courage you have left  
Wasted on fixing all the problems  
That you made in your own head..."  
_

Puck was mesmerized by the unassuming boy in the dark glasses, dark curls falling haphazardly into his face and bowtie still askew, eve after Kurt's repeated efforts to straighten it out. At that moment, lost in his music, he looked like the most beautiful, broken thing Puck had ever seen. And he wanted nothing more than to fix the pain spilling out of his lips, wrapped up in every note.

"_But it was not your fault but mine  
And it was your heart on the line  
I really fucked it up this time  
Didn't I, my dear?"_

By now, Rachel's mouth was literally hanging open. She clearly hadn't expected Blaine to be any good—not to mention _fucking brilliant._ Sam had that big, stupid grin on his face that usually meant he had found a new best friend, and Artie was swaying, eyes closed appreciatively as he raised his hand to the music. If Puck was any less cool, he might have joined right in.

_"Tremble for yourself, my man,  
You know that you have seen this all before  
Tremble Little Lion Man,  
You'll never settle any of your scores  
__Your grace is wasted in your face,  
Your boldness stands alone among the wreck  
Now learn from your mother or else spend your days Biting your own neck..."_

On the next chorus, the entire glee club joined in.

_"But it was not your fault but mine  
And it was your heart on the line  
I really fucked it up this time  
Didn't I, my dear?"_

"Didn't I, my dea-a-ar?" Blaine's voice and final chord drew out the last note, leaving it hanging poignantly in the stillness of the awe-stricken room.

Puck was the first one to start clapping, loud and deliberate. It didn't take long for the others to join in, loudly. Santana made a catcall, her attention clearly caught despite the jabs she'd been throwing around earlier about having a blind kid around, and Schue was doing that incredulous-smile-laugh thing that meant his expectations had not only been exceeded, but completely blown off the map. It was the kind of expression usually reserved for Finn when he managed to get his dance steps right, or Mercedes when Rachel sparked her competitive fuse and she finally pulled out her powerhouse vocals and used them like a sawed-off shotgun to decimate her tiny Jewish rival.

It was one of those moments that made Puck both insanely jealous, and insanely proud of his friends. And oddly enough, he was currently feeling insanely proud of Blaine.

He only vaguely registered Schue's gushing words about the raw, emotional power of the performance, the vocal talent, the coffee-house flavor and subtle undertones and blah, blah, blah. He was too busy loving the way Blaine grinned down at a floor he couldn't see; the way a rosy blush crept over his cheeks; the way he hugged the borrowed guitar to his chest like it could protect him from from all the embarrassing comments. He was too busy wondering if Blaine was as fragile as he looked or as strong as he acted, or if the two contradictions met somewhere in the middle. He was too busy coming up with a game plan for getting closer to the curly-haired beauty who'd already stolen his attention completely.

"Okay guys, settle down, settle down." Schue was still smiling widely, waving everyone into their seats. "Not so fast, you—" He caught Blaine's arm as he moved to sit as well, draping an arm around his shoulders. "I think we can all agree that your performance was amazing, and it isn't really necessary, buuuut we should officially say it."

"Blaine Anderson: welcome to Glee Club!"

_Let me know what you think? More to come~_


	2. Chapter 2

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**Chapter Two**

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Later that evening found Puck and Finn crammed into the tiny space in Finn's bedroom that pretended to be a couch but was really a bunch of boxes covered in blankets. They were hunched over their controllers as they tried to play split-screen co-op on the fifteen inch screen that had been outdated twenty years ago. Finn was winning, because he had always had more time on his hands for shit like video games. So Noah claimed.

Puck chose to capitalize on the bro time by hunting for juicy tidbits of gossip on his new obsession. Granted, that wasn't exactly guaranteed to work considering it was Finn, but at the moment Puck would take what he could get.

"So, that new kid. Curly Elton John... He's friends with Kurt, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Finn wouldn't tear his eyes away from the screen, lip between his teeth as he mashed the buttons a little harder than was strictly necessary.

"So?" Puck shrugged out the obvious question. "What do you know about him? I mean, why is he blind?"

"Maybe he was born blind, dude."

"Not a chance." Noah was sure of that. "He's not smooth enough. I think it must be a kind of recent thing. Year or two, maybe."

"How do you know that?" For the first time, Finn seemed genuinely interested in the conversation—even then, he only spared a semi-impressed eyebrow over at Puck. Guy took his Halo seriously.

"I dunno. He's like... still getting used to it, and stuff. And he's kind of defensive."

Finn didn't really have an answer for that, so they continued the game in silence for a few minutes longer.

Noah's curiosity refused to rest, though, and he couldn't resist fishing for more information.

"So how does Kurt know him?"

Finn sighed, and Puck could tell the questions were beginning to exasperate him. "From Dalton, I think. They were buddies there; something like that. What's with all the questions?"

"I don't know. He's interesting,"

The round they were playing had just ended, so Finn sat back enough to stretch his shoulders a bit and turn his attention to his friend. There was a half-resigned, half-wary look on his face, and somehow Puck knew what he was going to ask before he ever opened his mouth.

"Dude, you're not like... doing that "bi-curiosity" thing again, are you? Cause I don't know if I can be down with that all over again."

"Hey, you got nothing to worry about," Noah retorted defensively, scowling at the screen, still displaying scores from their last game. "It's not like you've got anything to do with it."

"Still," Finn sounded unsure, "it's weird."

"It's not weird," Noah insisted. "I still like girls, man. But y'know... I might like guys, too. Nothing wrong with that. I mean, think about it: you're totally okay with Kurt."

"Yeah, but Kurt took me forever to get used to..." Finn shrugged awkwardly. "I still lock my door at night, you know?"

Puck had to laugh at that. "What, you think he's gonna come in here and rape you? Grow a pair."

"No!" Finn defended quickly, "but you know... he used to have that thing for me, and it really creeped me out." He turned to Noah quickly, realization dawning on his face. "Don't tell him I said that."

Puck brushed him off. "I won't. But don't worry, like I said—you're totally not my type."

Finn shook his head, and they returned to their game in amiable silence. It was true; Finn had been pretty cool about it the first time Puck had gone through his sexual identity crisis back in their freshman year. It hadn't exactly been public knowledge, but there had been very little they hadn't shared with each other. Noah's phase had supposedly ended when he'd made an active attempt to check out the only gay guy he knew (Kurt) and had come to the conclusion that he found him repulsive. That had been that and they'd moved on, much to Finn's relief. He didn't handle the idea of sex or anything related to it well.

Now, the question was back, thanks to a certain striking newcomer, and neither of them knew what to do with it. Finn would probably default to his usual tactic: ignore the problem until it went away or stayed quiet, but Puck couldn't do the same.

Giving up on getting any new information out of Finn, Puck tossed aside his controller in disgust after losing his eighth round and made up something about raiding the fridge for drinks. In reality, he hoped he would run into Kurt and get the chance to grill him about Blaine. He still couldn't get the boy out of his head and he wasn't going to be able to concentrate on anything else until he had least a couple of answers.

"—parents hardly speak to him."

The familiar sound of a too-high-for-a-boy voice, obviously in conversation with someone, carried to the mohawked teen when he was halfway down the stairs. He knew it wasn't exactly noble of him, but Puck couldn't resist pausing on the stairs to listen, a habit he'd picked up from a decade of experience with his own parents. Never walk into a warzone unprepared.

"Listen, kid—you can't go jumping to conclusions about people, alright?" It was Burt's voice that answered. "I'm not sayin' your wrong, but you gotta give Blaine his space. Don't push him into talking to you if he doesn't want to."

They were talking about Blaine... Noah couldn't believe his luck.

"He has to talk to _someone_, Dad," Kurt was using that take-up-a-cause tone, like he had something to campaign for. "Wes and David and the guys from Dalton told me that they hardly hear from him anymore. It's like he's completely shut us out after everything... I didn't even know anything had happened until Wes called me about Blaine's transfer. I had to practically coerce him into coming to McKinley. Gaga only knows how he would have made it through another school..."

There was the clink of glass being set down on a hard surface as someone, presumably Burt, heaved a sigh. "Look, Kurt... Whatever he's been through, the kid needs to find his own way to deal. Wouldn't you be hurt if the guys from Glee club started talking about you behind your back?"

That comment might have struck a little guilt into Puck's heart. Hadn't he just been doing that with Finn? Maybe he really should just stop with the snooping around and just go talk to Blaine again. Somehow, that prospect seemed more terrifying than it should have been.

"It's not the same." Puck could practically hear Kurt rolling his eyes, applying his classic relative morality to his newest cause. "I'm not talking behind his back; I'm trying to find a way to_ help_ him."

Burt let out a chuckle that revealed he considered this a battle lost. "Whatever you say, kid. Just... be careful with him. He doesn't need a nursemaid right now. He needs a friend."

Kurt scoffed, but there was a note of fondness in it. "Have you met Blaine? I'm convinced he needs both."

Puck decided to take advantage of the moment of silence to begin tromping noisily the remainder of the way down the stairs, making a scene of looking blank and clueless as he made his entrance into the living room.

"Hey, Mr. Hummel," he sighed loudly as he headed into the adjoining kitchen and propped open the refrigerator door. "Kurt." He nodded at the teen, resisting a jab about the fitted suit jacket he was wearing because he really should start getting on the kid's good side.

Burt waved his beer at him, and Kurt instantly trotted into the kitchen, sneaking a look at his father before leaning close to Noah in that conspiratorial way of his—usually when he was talking about something that wasn't even remotely secretive.

"Noah. Did you harass Blaine today?"

Puck sighed at the straightforward question and let the lie slip out easily. "No. Give it a rest, princess. Contrary to public opinion: I don't pick on disabled kids."

"He's not—" Kurt was quick to leap to Blaine's defense, but was forced to roll his eyes to himself and rethink his wording. "Well, he is, but—there's nothing _wrong_ with him."

"Yeah?" Puck shut the fridge door between them. "Then why can't he see?"

Kurt was silent for a moment, watching Puck appraisingly as the mohawked teen fished through the usual cupboards in search of something edible.

"Be nice to him, Noah," Kurt warned vaguely when he couldn't seem to come up with anything more caustic. "He's been through a lot."

"Like?" Puck tried to sound casual about it, but he couldn't help the note of curiosity that slipped into his voice. He made a a show of shuffling through the bags of microwave popcorn like he didn't really care if he got an answer or not.

"Like none of your business." That snobbish air was back, and Noah sighed inwardly at the lost opportunity. "Just know that he needs support and friendship right now and not macho posturing from people like you."

Puck bit back a sharp retort as he listened to Kurt leave, his undoubtedly-expensive shoes tapping primly on the kitchen tile as he headed downstairs to his own room. Why did the fairy have to be so difficult? He was just like a girl that way... never could give a straight answer. On second thought, he was just like a girl in a lot of ways.

Glowering moodily at the stairs, from which faint pop music could now be heard wafting, Noah tucked a box of granola bars and a couple of cans of soda under his arms (he might have exchanged one for a beer when he was sure Burt wasn't looking) and trekked back upstairs.

He spent the rest of the night playing Halo with Finn, laughing loudly, and not thinking at all about Blaine Anderson.

Puck might have been a little more enthusiastic than usual about making it to school the next morning, but he told himself that was just because he picked up an extra-large can of Red Bull on the way there. He didn't catch sight of Blaine at all until Glee Club, and Noah had never needed less incentive to make a beeline to the choir room.

And in walked Blaine, and the world got a little brighter.

The night clearly hadn't undone Puck's massive obsession with the kid—if anything, it was now twice as hard to tear his eyes away from him. The dark glasses were firmly in place, but every time someone spoke to Blaine and he whipped his head around, those curls bounced out of the way for just a second, and all Noah could think of were those bright hazel orbs hiding behind the lenses.

Apparently Kurt had picked his friend up from school that morning, and he was still raving about the "Anderson Mansion". Granted, the first thing Noah thought about after hearing that was that Blaine's parents might have a pool they could hire him to clean, but he quickly tossed that thought out. Probably the last thing he needed to be concerned with at the moment.

"Seriously, it has like... a hundred rooms. And they have a genuine french valet. A _valet_."

"He's actually just a handyman," Blaine was trying to explain, but between Kurt's animated chatter and the other kids' expressions of awe, his naturally quiet voice was immediately overwhelmed.

"Do they have a personal vegan gourmet chef?" Rachel was asking with way too much enthusiasm for the given subject, hands clasped in excitement. "Because that's the first person _I'm_ going to hire when I become a Broadway star."

Blaine shook his head and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. He'd obviously given up on clearing the flying misconceptions; the glee club members were unlikely to consider him any less than a millionaire by the time Kurt was done.

Puck didn't actually have to sing anything today, so he spent most of practice watching Rachel prance around dramatically (what had he ever seen in her?) and sneaking sidelong glances at Blaine. They practiced some dance choreography in the stadium for several songs they were working on for an upcoming school fair, and he wasn't sure why, but he was kind of surprised when Mr. Schue threw Blaine in there with the rest of them—though Kurt kept close enough to occasionally put a hand on his arm and keep him oriented in the group. Kid had mad spatial reasoning skills apparently, because Finn bumped into him more times than Blaine bumped into anyone else. Though it did happen once or twice.

Puck discreetly tried to close his eyes and imagine that he only had their teacher's verbal instructions by which to understand the moves, and found he couldn't manage it for more than a step or two. His respect for Blaine increased, which made him all the more confused when the younger boy seemed to be getting increasingly more frustrated with himself every time Kurt corrected him or Schue had to single him out for detailed instructions. I mean, kid couldn't see shit... did he really expect this to be easy? The fact that he was up there at all impressed the hell out of Noah.

By the time Glee practice ended, Blaine was frustrated enough to remain stubbornly in the auditorium while everyone else left. Puck didn't even notice until he spotted Kurt at his locker without him, and thankfully he was saved from asking when Mike inquired about Blaine's whereabouts.

"Still in there practicing." Kurt sighed, shaking his head. "I think he needs to get it out of his system."

Puck stood by his locker for a moment, his hand frozen on the combination lock. He wasn't sure why he was hesitating, but he wasn't really sure of much today. His mind was urging him to go back to the auditorium; seize the opportunity to put the moves on Blaine. He was in there alone, and probably feeling all emotionally vulnerable and shit.

It was a tactic he'd practiced a thousand times in the past, but this time, something about it felt wrong. He didn't _want_ to take advantage of the other boy that way, and something about that fact disturbed him. Shouldn't he be jumping at the opportunity to make his move? It really was ideal.

But when he pictured it in his head, his stomach clenched up all funny like he'd had a bad cheeseburger and his chest burned and it just felt _wrong_. He couldn't use Blaine the way he'd used other people, and he'd just met him but Noah was already certain that Blaine was too good for him, and already too damaged. Fucked if he was going to be the one to add to that.

Troubled and confused, Puck turned away from the auditorium and made his way slowly to his truck. So maybe he was going to have to adjust his game plan a little, but that didn't change anything. Did it? Either way, he found himself sitting quietly in the parking lot as everyone else left, waiting until he spotted Kurt and Blaine leaving together. To his credit, Blaine looked marginally less stressed out than he had earlier, and he even grinned and joked with Kurt as they walked to Hummel's big black SUV, Blaine's wierd-looking stick tapping the ground out in front of him.

Puck waited until they left the lot before he pulled out and headed home.

The next day was almost exactly the same, minus the excited conversations and easy-out in Glee. Schue spent most of the day on focused one-on-one work with Tina and Mike, while Rachel was shunted to the side under the pretense of instructing Puck and Santana on a duet. Rachel, who was more than willing to believe herself qualified to be a surrogate teacher, promptly put on an air and went on a power trip, which meant that Santana flipped her lid about every other word. The session disintegrated into the two girls chewing each other out and flinging insults back and forth, while Puck, Finn, and the other guys sat back and bemoaned the lack of immediately available popcorn. At least the two girls put on a good show.

Eventually Kurt headed out, shaking his head in disgust, and Puck compulsively darted after him.

"Hey, Hummel." He called down the hall. "Curly Top not riding with you anymore?"

Kurt looked to be in a bit of a hurry, so he didn't think twice about rolling his eyes at the ceiling as he answered impatiently. "His parents have a car picking him up from now on. Don't want me making the drive, they say." He checked his phone. "Ah, the lifestyles of the rich and famous."

And then he was gone, leaving Puck nodding to himself and heading back towards the choir room. But Blaine hadn't even been in there for the last twenty minutes, and Puck had an idea where he might be by now instead. He was right.

He slipped into the auditorium without notice and made for the front row, where he lounged back in his seat and simply watched the stage for a few minutes as Blaine ran through the choreography... again, and again, and again. There were moments when, to Puck's untrained eyes, the steps looked perfect, but Blaine must have been seeing something that Noah couldn't, because he would always shake his head, shake out his shoulders, and run through it again.

After about twenty minutes of this, Noah began to get worried. He stood and approached the stage, leaning his crossed arms on the edge as he indulged in a moment of appreciating the lean limbs and expression of concentration on Blaine's face.

"You want some help?" He offered lamely, and immediately regretted his bluntness when Blaine jumped about a foot in the air.

"Puck?"

Blaine brushed the hair out of his eyes habitually, but didn't repeat the motion when the curls bounced back into place, nearly hiding his eyes. The glasses were absent for the moment, Noah noticed with satisfaction. He spotted them sitting by the stairs within easy reach, next to the white and red cane, and the teen resisted the urge to steal them again. Blaine might try to assassinate him this time.

"You remember me," Noah grinned. "Impressive."

"Of course I remember you." Blaine tilted his head and shrugged, falling back into the dance pattern easily. "Not everyday someone says 'hello' via robbery and assault."

"You hit first," Puck reminded, mesmerized by the smooth movements of Blaine's feet as he moved and spun. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Blaine sounded distracted.

"Dance like that. I can't do that shit, and I got both my eyes."

Blaine shrugged again, spinning on his heel. "I used to dance a lot. The body doesn't like to forget."

"At Dalton?" Puck remembered what Kurt had said yesterday.

Blaine nodded curtly, but was too breathless to speak as he restarted his routine for the fifth time. He didn't make it far before he huffed out a quiet sigh of utter exasperation and fumbled to a halt.

Sighing, Puck dropped his gym bag off of his shoulder and hopped lightly up onto the stage, approaching Blaine. He was glad that his converse tapped loudly enough on the wooden stage to alert Blaine to his approach.

"Come on," he fell into step next to Blaine, about where Kurt would be standing in their final number, and hiked up his jeans a little. "I'll keep you in your space."

Blaine did that incredulous little head-tilt-shrug thing again, like he didn't think this was going to work or that it was worth the effort, but said nothing as he set himself up to start. He looked dead-tired, Puck couldn't help but notice. He must have been at this for a while.

It wasn't pretty—admittedly, Puck had somehow paid less attention to these steps than Blaine had—but they made it through either way. Noah found himself grateful for the fact that Blaine couldn't see him, because that meant he couldn't notice how utterly atrocious the other teen's dance skills were. Well... technically they weren't bad, if he bothered to learn the steps in the first place. This time, he hadn't.

"See, that wasn't so bad." Puck admitted as he propped his hands on his hips. "Are you sure you're blind?"

Blaine huffed a little, and promptly sank down to the floor.

"You okay?" Puck reached out automatically, but stopped himself just short of a touch.

"Yeah." Blaine breathed out, crossing his legs tiredly. "Good to sit down for a minute."

Watching the other boy suspiciously, Noah mimicked his position, sinking down to sit just beside Blaine, close enough that it wouldn't take much effort to bump knees.

"You don't look so hot." Puck offered lamely when neither of them seemed keen to speak. "Sure you should be dancing?"

"I'm fine." Blaine snapped, and it would have been a little scarier if he didn't sound simply exhausted.

"Whoa, I get it." Noah wasn't really offended. "Sorry, dude. Just worried about you." Maybe he shouldn't have admitted that, but hey... Puck had never been much good at lying. He figured the truth couldn't hurt at this point.

"Well, take a number." Blaine had probably meant to load that comment with the same hostility as the last, but that same tiredness was weighing down his words and making it hard to take his venom seriously. He shook his head again, sighing long and loud. "Sorry. You didn't deserve that."

"Maybe I did." Puck offered vaguely, leaning back onto his palms.

They shared a companionable silence for some time, and Puck stared shamelessly, trying to interpret the expressions as they flickered across Blaine's features. The longer he looked at him, the prettier he got. Damn, he was going to have to figure this out. He shouldn't be thinking anything close to that about guys... He really shouldn't. But he really couldn't regret it, either.

"You should get a haircut." He offered diplomatically after a few minutes. "You look like a shaggy dog."

Blaine laughed at that, and Puck immediately threw all warnings to himself about thinking he liked guys out the window, because fuck if he couldn't fall in love with that sound, fast. Fuck if he hadn't already.

"You know, you're the only one..." Blaine stopped, frowning over his own words as he licked his lips. He opted to restart. "So far, you're the only one who doesn't treat me like I'm broken. Like I'm going to fall to pieces if they touch me or admit that I'm not like them."

The dark-haired boy frowned down unseeingly at the stage, playing absently with the edge of his jeans. Puck didn't press him.

"Why?" Blaine asked at last, sounding bewildered and almost hopeful.

Puck didn't really have a good answer for that. "I dunno." He shrugged awkwardly. He knew Blaine couldn't see things like that, but he was a physical guy. It helped him figure out what he was thinking. "You just don't seem broken to me."

Blaine swallowed hard, once; twice. He nodded down at his lap, his fingers clenching and unclenching in the hem of his jeans.

Noah didn't know what else to say, and he didn't know what Blaine was thinking, so he stayed quiet: not an easy task for Noah Puckerman.

He wasn't sure what he'd meant to say or if he'd been able to say it, but when he thought about it? He meant it. Blaine seemed hurt, like a bird caught out in a bad storm. But he wasn't past saving; wasn't permanently gone. He could pull back, smooth out his feathers and heal up those broken bones. If he believed in himself, he could probably fly again a lot quicker than he imagined.

Problem was, it looked like Blaine was the only one who didn't believe that.

Nudging Blaine's hand with his, he made him take it so Puck could pull the shorter boy to his feet. "May not mean much, but I think you kicked ass. Let's just say no-one's gonna think you're the blind one on this stage next week."

Blaine smiled weakly. "Thanks."

"Want a ride home?"

"My parents set up a driver for me." Blaine didn't sound thrilled with the idea. "But thanks."

"No problem." Puck was a little disappointed, but didn't mention it.

He stuck around to make sure Blaine made it down the stage safely and walked with him to the front entrance, unwilling to let him out of his sight any sooner than absolutely necessary. They parted ways with mumbled goodbyes and half-waves, and Puck reluctantly trudged back out to his truck.

He looked back over his shoulder just in time to catch the ghost of a smile pass over Blaine's face.

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Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and put this story on alert! I hope you continue to read and enjoy, and especially to let me know what you hope to see as the story continues. I'm always open to suggestions. =)

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**Velvet** **Killer**: Thank you for reading! I'm honored that this is your first Puck/Blaine story, I hope it lives up to your expectations!

**VitaAmoreRiso**: Thanks so much for reviewing! By the way, I was so excited to get your review: your Puck/Blaine story was one of the first I read and loved in this fandom, and I'm honored that you're enjoying this one. I value your opinion so much, and I'm ecstatic to have you reading. As for how Blaine was blinded, well... I guess you'll just have to keep reading and find out. XD

**Aledda**: Thank you! I'm glad you found the story interesting. I have to agree; I'm in love with characters like Blaine who are contradictory and complex. It makes for a harder write, but more interesting plots in my humble opinion. I hope you keep reading and enjoying!

**Narcoleptic86**: Thanks! I hope this new chapter meets your expectations!

**Jesssy**: I updated soon! Well, at least, it's a quick update for me... I have noticed that this fandom updates a lot more frequently than others, though, so maybe this was still slow. Ah well. Either way, I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and thank you so much for reviewing!


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